Trimmed up your praises with a princely tongue;
Spoke your deservings like a chronicle ;
Making you ever better than his praise,
By still dispraising praise, valued with you ;
And, which became him like a prince indeed,
He made a blushing cital of himself,
And chid his truant youth with such a grace,
As if he mastered there a double spirit,
Of teaching, and of learning, instantly.
There did he pause ; but let me tell the world, -
If he outlive the envy of this day,
England did never owe? so sweet a hope,
So much misconstrued in his wantonness.

Hot. Cousin, I think thou art enamored
Upon his follies.' Never did I hear
Of any prince, so wild at liberty :
But, be he as he will, yet once ere night
I will embrace him with a soldier's arm,
That he shall shrink under my courtesy:-
Arm, arm, with speed;—and, fellows, soldiers, friends,
Better consider what you have to do,
Than I, that have not well the gift of tongue,
Can lift your blood up with persuasion.

3

a

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My lord, here are letters for you.

Hot. I cannot read them now.-
O gentlemen, the time of life is short;
To spend that shortness basely, were too long,
If life did ride upon a dial's point,
Still ending at the arrival of an hour.
And if we live, we live to tread on kings;
If die, brave death, when princes die with us!
Now for our consciences,—the arms are fair,
When the intent of bearing them is just.

Enter another Messenger.
Mess. My lord, prepare ; the king comes on apace.

Hot. I thank him, that he cuts me from my tale,
For 1 profess not talking; only this-
Let each man do his best: and here draw I
A sword, whose temper I intend to stain
With the best blood that I can meet withal
In the adventure of this perilous day.
Now,-Esperance !-Percy!-and set on.-
Sound all the lofty instruments of war,
And by that music let us all embrace ;
For, heaven to earth, some of us never shall
A second time do such a courtesy.

[The trumpets sound. They embrace, and exeunt.

SCENE III. Plain near Shrewsbury. Excursions and Parties fighting. Alarum to the Battle. Then

Enter Douglas and Blunt, meeting. Blunt. What is thy name, that in the battle thus Thou crossest me? What honor dost thou seek Upon my head ? Doug

Know, then, my name is Douglas; And I do haunt thee in the battle thus, Because some tell me that thou art a king.

Blunt. They tell thee true. Doug. The lord of Stafford dear to-day hath bought Thy likeness; for, instead of thee, king Harry, This sword hath ended him. So shall it thee, Unless thou yield thee as my prisoner.

Blunt. I was not born a yielder, thou proud Scot;? And thou shalt find a king that will revenge Lord Stafford's death.

[They fight, and Blunt is slain.

1 The folio reads :

“I was not born to yield, thou haughty Scot.”

66

Enter HOTSPUR. Hot. O, Douglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus, I never had triumphed upon a Scot.

Doug. All's done, all's won; here breathless lies

the king.

Hot. Where?
Doug. Here.

Hot. This, Douglas ? no, I know this face full well. A gallant knight he was; his name was Blunt; Semblably furnished like the king himself.

Doug. A fool go with thy soul, whither it goes ! A borrowed title hast thou bought too dear. Why didst thou tell me that thou wert a king ?

Hot. The king hath many marching in his coats.

Doug. Now, by my sword, I will kill all his coats. I'll murder all his wardrobe, piece by piece, Until I meet the king. Hot.

Up, and away ; Our soldiers stand full fairly for the day. [Exeunt.

Other Alarums. Enter FALSTAFF. Fal. Though I could 'scape shot-free at London, I fear the shot here; here's no scoring, but upon the pate.-Soft! who art thou ? Sir Walter Blunt ; there's honor for you. Here's no vanity! I am as hot as molten lead, and as heavy too. God keep lead out of me! I need no more weight than mine own bowels.—I have led my ragamuffins where they are peppered: there's but three of my hundred and fifty left alive ; and they are for the town's end, to beg during life. But who comes here?

Enter PRINCE HENRY. P. Hen. What, stand'st thou idle here? Lend me

hy sword;

1

Many a nobleman lies stark and stiff
Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies,
Whose deaths are unrevenged. Pr’ythee, lend me thy

sword. Fal. O Hal, 1 pr’ythee give me leave to breathe a while.-Turk Gregory' never did such deeds in arms, as I have done this day. I have paid Percy; I have made him sure.

P. Hen. He is, indeed ; and living to kill thee. I pr’ythee, lend me thy sword.

Fal. Nay, before God, Hal, if Percy be alive, thou get’st not my sword; but take my pistol, if thou wilt. P. Hen. Give it me. What, is it in the case ? .

? Fal. Ay, Hal: 'tis hot, 'tis hot; there's that will sack a city.

[The Prince draws out a bottle of sack. P. Hen. What, is't a time to jest and dally now?

[Throws it at him, and exit. Fal. Well, if Percy be alive, I'll pierce him. If he do come in my way, so: if he do not, if I come in his, willingly, let him make a carbonado? of me. I like not such grinning honor as sir Walter hath. Give me life; which if I can save, so; if not, honor comes unlooked for, and there's an end.

[Exit.

SCENE IV. Another Part of the Field. Alarums;

Excursions.

Enter the King, PRINCE HENRY, PRINCE JOHN, and

WESTMORELAND.
K. Hen. I pr’ythee,
Harry, withdraw thyself; thou bleed'st too much, 3 —
Lord John of Lancaster, go you with him.

P. John. Not I, my lord, unless I did bleed too.

P. Hen. I beseech your majesty, make up,
Lest your retirement do amaze your friends.

K. Hen. I will do so.
My lord of Westmoreland, lead him to his tent.
West. Come, my lord, I'll lead you to your tent.
P. Hen. Lead me, my lord ? I do not need your

help;
And Heaven forbid a shallow scratch should drive
The prince of Wales from such a field as this ;
Where stained nobility lies trodden on,
And rebels' arms triumph in massacres !
P. John. We breathe too long:--Come, cousin

Westmoreland,
Our duty this way lies; for God's sake, come.

[Exeunt P. John and WESTMORELAND. P. Hen. By Heaven, thou hast deceived me, Lan

caster;
I did not think thee lord of such a spirit.
Before, I loved thee as a brother, John ;
But now, I do respect thee as my soul.

K. Hen. I saw him hold lord Percy at the point,
With lustier maintenance than I did look for
Of such an ungrown warrior.
P. Hen.

O, this boy
Lends mettle to us all!

[Exit.

Alarums. Enter Douglas.
Doug. Another king! they grow like Hydra's

heads;
I am the Douglas, fatal to all those
That wear those colors on them.—What art thou,
That counterfeit'st the person of a king ?
K. Hen. The king himself; who, Douglas, grieves

at heart,

1 « — the earle of Richmond withstood his violence, and kept him at the swords point, without advantage, longer than his companions eíther thought or judged." - Holinshed, p. 759.